Dance With The Devil
by MonsturrBonesxxx3
Summary: This game they played would never end, and neither one was going down without the other. They were tied by a bond that only the Joker realized was there, and he was going to make sure Batman realized it too. Batman/Joker. Slash.


1Everything about him was disgusting. From his dirty, crinkled green hair, to his lust filled emerald colored eyes that craved for death. The make-up on his face, with his ruby red painted lips and yellow teeth, and the smeared black paint around his eyes. His bleach white skin, was like a beam of moon fell upon him when he was born, and left its mark in his pale skin.

All the people he killed, all the people he hurt. He beat the original egg-laying boy with a crowbar to his death. Of course the little bitch was reincarnated, but who gives a flying fuck, because he was gone in the Joker's mind. And then he beat Bat-girl and stripped her naked, as he danced merrily around her limp body, snapping pictures to send to her father. He left her paraplegic and in a wheel chair. All the people the Joker killed and hurt, and still somehow Batman couldn't bring himself to kill the clown, for some self-righteous reason. And the Joker had pushed so many buttons to test that fine line, but he always woke up alive, all though a little sore. It amused the Joker, but it frustrated him none the less.

These games he played with Batman, his comical death games that kept Batman chasing him, and he'd begun to realize why he was doing it a lot more lately, because it was as if seeing the Batman suppressed some unrequited emotion in him. He was growing fond of the man in black tights. They just wouldn't kill each other. The Bat brought purpose to the Joker's life, and well . . . Batman was just a "self-righteous" pussy. The Joker laughed at his thoughts.

"Do it, Batsy, kill me," he'd always mock him, coaxing him over that line that kept the bat in place, that kept his madness in a small box buried in the back of the bat's head. "I dare you, Bats, baby. Kill me. Your life will be easier without me. Don't get your tights in a bunch over guilt."

He'd wait for the final blow, always wishing each time, but it never happened. He'd watch with a wicked sense of domination in his emerald eyes as Batman lowered his blade, his body shaking, grip loosening its hold on his collar. The Joker's eyes would glitter in amusement, coated over in a smug expression. "You can't do it, can you, Bat Boy? Face it. You need me in your life. I complete you, darling."

That comment always earned him a shove into the wall behind him, and a punch in the face. But the Joker didn't feel pain anymore, for he had blocked it out a very long time ago, way before this Bat joined his life. Instead, the pain felt like a tickle, a tickle that made him burst into laughter as he was beat to the ground, blood spilling from his mouth with each raspy chuckle that escaped his lips. He'd be beaten to the point of unconsciousness, and when he'd wake up, he'd be in that horrible place with white rooms; Arkham.

He'd always wait a few months before he got bored and made an easy getaway. He liked to give the Bat a break, while he came up with an even worst way to torture his favorite winged mammal. Arkham even had its own little room that was permanently his. He'd used his long, rigid nail to carve out designs into the walls. Disturbing pictures. Pictures of Robin, laying dead before him drowning in a pool of his own blood. Batman chasing after him, up stairs and down streets; there were lots of pictures of the Dark Knight and himself.

Some of the Joker standing proudly with the Bat tied up, under his foot. Some of him tied in a chair, the Joker standing proudly behind him, with rope in his hand, and a wicked smile on his face. Those were the gentle ones though. There were ones that scared the Doctors out of their minds, and they noted Bruce on one occasion, in which he came to see what this picture they spoke of was.

He entered slowly, staring down at the figure curled up on the floor, with his hands tied behind his back, and his green hair curlier and madder than usual. Those untamed eyes flickered up to the man in costume, and a wicked smile tugged at his ruby red lips. "The Hero came to visit his villain, how lovely, and strange. Did you miss me that much, Bats baby?"

"Just came to make sure you were still here," Bruce grunted, looking up to examine the room he was in.

He gazed in disgust at all the scratchy pictures etched into the white, plastered walls. He looked back down at the Joker's tied hands, taking note of the ragged and worn fingernails. A familiar laugh tickled the Bat's ear drums, and he looked up to those crazy green eyes. "Like my art work? Wouldn't you say I'm a true Picasso?"

A frown graced the Bat as he scanned the room, grimacing at all of the pictures of him being captured by the Joker. And then there were some that just truly scared him. The ones where he was being tortured, in ways of sexual and harmful references, with him begging for more pain, for more of the Joker. His arch-nemesis, doing things to him, he'd never imagined doing before.

The Joker smiled at that disgust, and struggled to bring himself to a sitting position, gazing around him too. "Now you know a little bit more about me, don't you? See how much I need you, Batsy. Without the moon, the sun would be nothing but a dimly lit bulb in the sky. I brighten your world, and you know it. Can't you see how much I need you, and you _need_ me back?"

It was sickening to Bruce, as he pursed his lips, and looked down at that sardonic grin. "You're nuts."

A loud cackle escaped those lips, and the Joker stamped his feet on the floor with his fit of giggles. "I'm nuts for you, Batsy. Why don't you let me go and we can play our little game? You know you love tangling with me. You can't be Batman without the Joker. Our eternal dance will last until our deaths, and even then, we'll still be dancing in our graves. We were made for one another, after all. Can't you feel it, Batsy? I am you, in a way, only I'm that part of you that you don't let out.

"You can't die until I die, and you know it. It's all kind of funny, don't you think? One big joke that never ends. We'll die together, at each other's hands."

The Bat's nose crinkled at this. Was he right? He couldn't die yet, because he had to keep the Joker at bay. He wouldn't die until the Joker was six feet under. No . . . he was living to keep the city at bay, not for that sick freak. "You don't have a clue of what you're saying, Joker."

"Bats, sweety, darling, I can escape at any moment and you know it." The Joker stood to his feet, and suddenly, his hands weren't cuffed anymore. He was laughing again, maniacally like he always did, as he came closer to Batman, eyes blazing with an emotion Bruce didn't understand. In a sly movement, he reached his hands up to his belt, swiping over the button that told Robin he was in trouble. Acting like he never did it, he brought his hands up in defense. It would be a matter of time before Robin was there to help."See?"

He growled under his breath, and aimed a punch, but the Joker silently moved away from the fist, and reached his own hand up, tracing the other's arm until he found his back. He pushed himself close to the Bat, using the hand on his back as a way of keeping the struggling man in place, and his other hand crept up the Bat's armored chest.

There was a dreamy look on the Clown Prince's face, a lusty look, filled with need. "You know the guards are coming right now, don't you?"

"No way. I've stopped the puppets in their tracks, and cut their strings. They won't be messing with this performance tonight," he exclaimed, his face close enough to the Bat's, that Bruce could feel the Joker's breath on his lips, could smell the death and decay of his breath.

"What did you do to them?" The Dark Knight asked through gritted teeth, eyes glowering into those jade colored eyes, that stared back at him with just as much burning and passion.

"I sent them on a lunch break. A permanent lunch break," he laughed at himself, and rested his head against Batman's chest, his green mane tickling the Bat's chin. He could smell a faint scent of cologne that was sweet like candy and made Bruce dizzy. "Speaking of food, you smell good enough to eat, Bats, baby."

"You're sick," Bruce gasped out, as a knee was placed between his legs and gingerly brushed against his groin. It happened again, and started in a sick little hypnotic rhythm, and Batman was disgusted that he almost enjoyed the way it felt.

"I'm sick because I'm attracted to you? Is it wrong to like someone? Don't other human beings do things like this when they like each other?" he asked in an innocent voice, almost childlike, as his fingers pressed forcefully against the armor blocking him from what he wanted most. "What a freakin' hypocrite you are. I didn't say you were sick for having sex with that bitch Catwoman, did I? No. But now that I'm thinking on this subject, she was an ugly cunt. What did you see in her, Bats, baby?"

"A good person," Bruce snarled, reaching his hands up to push the Joker away. The knee between his legs pushed violently against his crotch, grinding into it, sending an embarrassing jolt of pleasure up his spine, and he arched into that touch. He struggled to open his eyes back up, which he had closed somewhere in the process of being molested by a knee. "Bastard."

"I'm the leader today, Batsy," the Joker ground out, showing his anger by giving a sharp shove into the man's crotch. The Joker caught the man's hands as he tried to grab the Clown's knee, and he pushed him back into a wall, and took the hand cuffs from his pocket. "You will be a good little Bat and let me have my way, or all these Doctors and Nurses lose their jobs."

Bruce knew he meant that he'd kill them if he didn't obey. His hands were taken by the Joker, and cuffed together, making sure they were _extra_ tight. "Good little Bat. You crawl into a dark cave inside that little head of yours, or you join me, and have a little fun in your life. You need to loosen up, Bats, and I think I can show you exactly how to do just that."

"Fuck you," Bruce spat, kicking the Joker in the gut, sending him falling on his ass a few feat away. He advanced forth, and kicked the clown in the ribs, but the Joker didn't laugh like he usually did. He pushed himself up, a look of utter disgust in his eyes as he wiped blood off his lip. And then came the smile, slow and steady, crawling up his face like a worm.

"Since you don't want to play our game," the Clown Prince pulled a walky-talky from his pocket, and brought it to his lips. "Punch, get one of the nice nurse ladies and bring her to the Bat Cage. Batsy here won't go down easily."

Bruce's eyes widened in horror as he stared down at the sinister smile on the clown's face. The Joker stumbled up to his feet, and ran a hand through his curls, calming himself out or something. "I don't want to get physical, but you're forcing me to, Batsy. And I will have you either way - even if it means you hate my guts."

"I'll never stop hating your guts," Bruce whispered, glaring deeply at the man who stood before him, pacing like an animal trapped in a cage. "You won't win."

"On the contrary," the Joker stated, the door opening, and a large man with a woman in his hands entered. Bruce looked back and forth between the crying woman in Punch's hands, to the Joker, who stood waiting, expectantly. The clown walked over to the woman and grabbed her face, forcing her to look at Bruce, with a pleading look in her hazel eyes, tears brimming at the corners. "Will you let a pretty face like this die, Batsy?"

There was a long moment of argument inside of Bruce's head, but he fell to his knees, and he let his gaze fall to the floor in shame. A smile snapped over the Joker's face, and he waved away the woman and his henchmen. "Now, just in case you decide to deny me again, she'll be waiting right outside that door for you, cupcake."

The Clown Prince strode back over to his tiny rodent like a cat, stalking its prey, tail swinging patiently behind him, and he wore a catty grin too. He grabbed Batman's armor, and pulled him to his feet, which you think would be hard for the Joker as he was very small and fragile looking. His anger filled him with strength, though, and he shoved the Bat back into the floor, body pinned under his foot. That loud laughter echoed off the walls and reverberated through his ears, and his mind. Batman was caught. He had no power right now.

"Now," the Joker leaned forward, crouching on his knees, hands joined under his chin with a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Give me your utility belt, so we don't have you ruining our fun. I'm going to break you into tiny pieces, until you follow me around like a good little bat on a leash. You'll finally be tamed, Bats, baby. I just have to figure out how to get underneath that second skin of yours."

Without a second word, the Joker unbuckled the belt, and peeled it away from Batman's body, and threw it to the opposite wall. He then poked at the armor covering his prize. A frown was on his face as he gently scratched at the metal, and then, very violently, tugged at it. Pursing his lips, he looked into those blue eyes, a smile on his face in a matter of seconds, hiding his frustration. Batman was less impressed, as he glared back. "Want to help me out Batsy? Or that girl will need some help picking her brains back up."

Very cautiously, Batman undid his armor, never taking his eyes off those impatient green orbs boring holes in him. He dropped it on the floor beside them, and then he was like an open wound, festering, with millions of parasites free to enter and fuck him up. Isn't that what was about to happen anyway? He looked away, ashamed of being this vulnerable, of losing to the man he called his enemy.

Hands roamed the Bat's chest, up and down, sliding, slicing at the soft cloth that was the only protection now. Underneath this thin layer of protection was the man inside, and he was nothing but a soft core. The hands tore away the clothes, revealing the soft flesh called skin, and a mad smile was on his face as he marveled at the perfectly carved muscles. His nails dug into the skin, earning a tiny flinch on the face of his Bat, and leaning his head down to that rock hard body, his tongue dropped from his mouth, and crawled up Bruce's stomach, leaving a trail of saliva all the way up to his neck where he followed a vein, and only let go at the edge of his chin.

He pulled away to smile at his work, and reached his up, tipping Batman's face toward him so he could look into those beautiful blue orbs. "What's the matter Batty? Are you mad that, in reality, this makes you horny as hell? Is that Bat ashamed of his emotions for his arch-nemesis? Come on, Batsy, moan for me."

His fingers undid themselves from the man's skin, and trailed light butterfly touches up his chest, finding a small bump, and tweaking it. Bruce bit into his lips, his face turning back to the side so he wouldn't have to watch the Joker rub his nipple, and so he wouldn't have to watch his body react needily to the touch. The grip was rougher now, twisting, turning, rubbing, pulling, circling, licking, sucking, biting; everything to make that small bud harden till it hurt, till it was the most sensitive thing on his body, and he knew he was arching his back into that touch.

"Mmm, Batty Boy, you're so much fun to play with," the Joker gave a loud laugh, that made Batman shudder and bite his lip harder. "Come on, moan. I want you to scream, to gasp, to cry, to want me. Didn't you get that from my pictures, Batsy? I only want to make you feel good."

It did feel good, but he'd never admit it, because in his mind he knew it was wrong. Or at least, that's what he told himself. Was it wrong to want something he shouldn't, and couldn't have?

"Stop," he breathed out, as those hands moved down to his tights, and brushed over the bulge slowly forming down there, with a ghost of a touch, his emotions ignited like a flame, and he wanted so much more than just that simple touch. "S..stop, Joker."

The clown barked out a laugh, his eyebrows raising up, making his forehead wrinkle. "That's not what your body's telling me right now."

He flicked his tongue out of his mouth, touching it to the small red, slimy, and hard bud. Then slowly, he put all his weight on it, and ran his tongue up the sensitive little bump. Bruce's whole body twitched, yearning for more of that expert touch. He finally let his eyes slide over the head of green hair that lowered down, placing gentle down to his lower abdomen, while his hands fumbled with the man's tights, and he slowly tugged them down from his hips, exposing the man's erection from earlier scenes.

There was a wry smile as he stared down at the large organ, erect and huge, with some pre-cum already spilling from the tip. It made him giddy inside, and he looked up into those blue eyes, that stared down at him with hate. "Does it make you angry that I can make your body writhe in pleasure?"

The Detective turned his head away, giving him the silent treatment, but it was already clear how much he detested this, and yet wanted it. The Joker took a minute to stare at the pout on Batman's face. It was a pout, it had to be. He'd never seen Batman act like this. It was making him crazy, and he wanted more emotions to pour from that heartless, soul of his. Just as leaned down to lick the tip of the large organ calling for his attention, the door to the room opened, and in came Punch, sweaty and panting.

The clown assistant was startled, and embarrassed for interrupting his boss at a time like this, but it was an emergency. He watched his boss' back rise up, and heard the breath of irritation escape his lips. "Punch, honey, this better be good or I'm going to blow your brains out."

"B..boss, diaper boy is here and he's got some friends. They're coming this way," Punch exclaimed, in a flustered voice. He looked over his back as voices stirred down the hallway, and shadows turned the corner. "We've got to leave!"

A smile crept onto the Joker's face, an eerie smile that made Batman's heart sink down to his stomach, in fear. When the Joker was angry, he was dangerous. "So, Batsy, you called some reinforcements to join us?"

"I told him where I was going before I even came here. He probably got worried at how long I was taking, and came to get me, knowing who I was seeing . . ." he was lying through his teeth, but the Joker above him didn't need to know that. "Sorry to ruin your fun."

But the Joker didn't look mad. A smile rose on his cheeks, and he turned to face Punch, hands straddling the Batman down. "Let them in. Let them see their Hero fall!"

Punch looked confused, but he moved away from the door, and the Joker rose, lifting Bruce up with him by the collar of his torn suit. Batman struggled, grabbing the Joker's hands, but the clown removed something from his pocket and stabbed it into the Bat's arms. It was an injection and the effects were immediate. His whole body went limp, and he couldn't control himself. This caused a state of panic in his mind, and he growled at the clown. "What have you done?!"

"I did what I had to do. You don't think I planned ahead before you came? I had this whole thing staged before you even arrived. The whole place had been taken over by my lackeys, and the 'nurses' you talked to were really all my loyal maids," the clown sniggered, and that snigger turned into broken laughs. "Oh, Batty, your precious bird brain will watch you moan by my hand, not his."

"Batman!" called the same boy, running into the room, panting for air as his eyes widened at the scene displayed before him. "Batman . . . don't you dare hurt him Joker!"

This made the Joker laugh, but he quickly grew serious, and tugged the Bat closer to his body, protectively in a way. "Listen up diaper boy, the Bat's mine. Mine, mine, _mine_!"

Batman couldn't look at the confused look on Robin's face, he had to look away as he gasped at the hand that squeezed his manhood hard, and let out a loud laugh. "See how your Hero gasps under my touch?!"

More cops entered the room, including Lieutenant Gordon, who immediately looked away out of respect. "Put down your guns, boys. I've already got Batman's!"

Another roar of laughter escaped the Joker's lip, and he pulled the Batman back, so his face was facing his. His tongue traced the shell of the Bat's ear, causing Bruce to shiver from the cold and slimy saliva left behind. This was torture; horrible, pleasurable, torture. "What do you want, Joker? We'll give you anything if you give us back Batman."

"Don't give him what he wants!" Batman growled at the old man, but he was jerked back, and the sharp edge of a knife was shoved against his neck. "Even if it means I lose my life."

"Mm, Bats, baby, you're so funny. I want a little more respect. I want him all for my own," the Joker replied. "He's mine. Captain Bird Brains here can't ever make contact with _my_ Bat ever again. I think, if you want him to live, that you should just leave peacefully and let me finish the work you so rudely interrupted."

"We'll leave you in peace if you give us back Batman," the Lieutenant replied, backing up to prove his point. "Please, Joker."

"Hah! Look at the way they beg for you, Batsy! They say they need you, but you've seen the way they treat you! They only want you alive when they can't control me, and any other time, they want you dead! But I need you to be alive, so I can keep my purpose in life," the Joker sounded insane, and it was scaring everybody, but they stayed calm on the outside.

"You want him back? I only want one thing from him, and then you can take him, for now. I'm just sick of seeing everybody else get kisses from this stupid little Bat, so you can only imagine how jealous my mouth is?" asked the Joker. He placed his knife back in his pocket, and threw Batman sideways, making him fall to the floor. Pulling back his head, he made sure his legs were on either side of the bat, and he shoved his lips against the other's.

It wasn't full of passion or love, it was filled with desperation, need, want, and it was sloppy. His tongue slipped into Bruce's mouth, like the sneaky snake he was, and it explored every inch of that mouth. The police and Robin cringed in disgust, all of them looking away, out of respect, once more. Batman closed his eyes, trying to block out the Joker, but it was too hard to do. He allowed the kiss to happen, and when it ended, the Joker took the Bat's bottom lip in his mouth, and sucked, as if savoring the moment like it would never happen again. Which it . . . hopefully wouldn't. He pulled away, didn't wipe his mouth like Batman did, but he laughed at the Bat when he did.

"Don't think this is over," he replied, looking into those blue eyes, and then back up at Gordon. With one last laugh, he walked past the cops, and they didn't stopped him. They had promised, after all. As he walked down the hallway Bruce could hear the Joker's laughter as he pulled his tights back up. The Clown Prince always had to have the last laugh.

"Are you okay?" asked Robin, who had run over to help his mentor up. "Did he hurt you?"

"Why don't you just kill him," asked the Lieutenant suddenly, catching Bruce before he could answer his assistant. Gordon had a stern look in his eyes, and he was truly angry, truly sickened. "He's not worth keeping alive."

"I may hate everything about him," Batman answered, glaring at the floor. "But I will not kill him."

Gordon shook his head, and gestured for his men to leave the room. Robin frowned at Gordon's back as he left, and looked up at the much taller Batman. "Come on," he said, tugging on Batman's arm. "Let's go home so you can get cleaned up."

"Robin, it doesn't matter if I go home. This war will never end, and I will not kill him even though everyone including him wants me to. I'm just as bad as him, for letting him live, and letting him get away with murder." Batman shook his head, but took a step forward to leave. "Sometimes I wonder if he's right . . ."

"What?! The Joker's never right. He's crazy, Batman," Robin exclaimed, following after the man. He tilted his head up at the older man. "What do you mean, you sometimes think he's right?"

"If one of us is going down, then the other is going too. He won't kill me unless I kill him. I won't kill him unless he kills me. We'll die together, and he knows it. He knew it before me," the Batman said, his mind wandering, eyes distant and far off as he made his way out of the building. "We'll die at each other's hands, and no one else's. It's his promise to himself."

"Calm down, Batman. You'll be fine," said Robin in a soothing voice, getting into the driver's side of the Batmobile. "I'll drive so you don't get us killed or something."

Bruce allowed himself to smile at the humor in Robin's voice, and he leaned his head against the glass window, that cooled his cheek. He listened to the motor start, and felt his eyes closing. God he was tired, and his body felt like a plate of mashed potatoes. But even his sleep, the Joker haunted him. He touched him, made him break under his body, and laughed while he did it. Bruce would never stop being haunted by the Clown Prince of Crime.

They were _apart_ of each other.


End file.
